


Word Association

by thegreatwordologist



Category: Original Work
Genre: Flash Fiction, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Snippets, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:09:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatwordologist/pseuds/thegreatwordologist
Summary: The call went out:  "Send me an anonymous word, and I will share what it makes me think of."  This is a collection of those words and the response I gave.





	1. Peculiar

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to send a word, you can do it [here](http://thegreatwordologist.tumblr.com/ask).

Peculiar is such a fun word to say, to me, but it inevitably makes me think of a young girl, maybe 8 or 9, who is very introverted. She lives in a house with a grand staircase, and most of the time, she can be found observing people from the upper landing. Her eyes are solemn when she looks at you, and she says nothing, but you know she understands your very thoughts… and pities them.


	2. Phantasmagorical

This is such a Lovecraftian word to me… beautiful and creepy, but not something for everyday wear. It makes me think of the shadow in the corner of your closet. No, not that corner. The deeper corner, where light struggles to reveal anything and those old shirts you used to wear sometimes rustle with the movement of inky, fog-like tentacles.


	3. Egregious

Egregious is one of those ten-dollar words I absolutely love but also never use, not because I necessarily prefer simpler language, but just because so few people around me would really understand it, I feel. What it makes me think of is Trump and Pence.

Okay, okay, I got artsy about the others. Let’s do this thing, hmm?

Egregious makes me think of the very opposite of an ideal and a movement to believe in it. It makes me think of a crowd of disciples who don’t understand the concept of ‘great’, and don’t apply compassion to their views. In the midst of that crowd, there is a lone person, neither boy nor girl. The person might be gay. They might be straight. They might be something Other. But they are silent, not out of acceptance but out of self-preservation, because they understand that the crowd around them will not hear what they say, because the crowd doesn’t care.


	4. Departed

This is not one of my favorite words, as it gives me two immediate associations: the “dearly departed” of funerals and standing in line at the airport departures ensuring my daughter has her ticket home in order. That said…

It makes me think of fluorescent lights overhead, disinterestedly illuminating the milling crowd below as people hug their loved ones. There is a boy in the midst, a ratty old backpack slung over one arm and a beanie on his head. He wears thumb rings and earrings, and parts of his arm look tattooed in blue. He does not say that the blue ink is from a ballpoint pen, or that he draws on himself to escape the boredom. He stands in the crowd, waiting for the line to form, and his eyes stare vacantly at all those around him hugging others. There is no one for him to hug. There is no one he wants to hug.

When the line finally settles into place, he is somewhere near the middle, with bodies stretching in front and behind. His tennis shoes make no sound on the tile beneath his feet, even when he shuffles forward. He ignores the eyes locked on the back of his head.


	5. Gucci

Thanks to associations again, there is power in this word for me. It speaks of confidence and determination, and a certainty in destiny even when that destiny is shaped a little different from the expectation. I also associate it with love.

In a more artistic sense, however, it makes me think of a driving beat, sound-waves against my chest as much as my eardrums, and rain damping down my hair as I stand on a grey street corner. Cars rush past me, but I don’t hear them over the beat. Raindrops dance around me, because the sonic force of the music makes them bounce with the energy. 

I lean against the street lamp, and it doesn’t matter that it’s night around me. There’s a circle of light for me from the bulb above and a puddle for me from the cloud higher up. The cityscape is painted in greyscale with dots of red from brakelights, and I am home.


	6. Inferno

I have an immediate thought of fallen angels and literary studies, but older than that, the word makes me think of dun-colored stone, dusty and hot beneath a sky glaring down on one traveling woman. 

The air around her is arid, but no more comfortable for the lack of humidity, and her sweat offers no relief. There is no breeze to cool her, nor shade to rest in. There is no relief in sight, and it doesn't matter that the rocky pathway she follows curves up into the mountains. The mountains here don't believe in cooling air, or snow, or any sort of respite from the heat.

In due course, she will pause at the outcropping ahead and pull out her canteen, sipping carefully at the remaining water before storing it away. There is no promise that she will make it to the top of the volcano to look within, but if she does not, hers will not be the only bones littering the path.


	7. Fortress

Fortress is a strong word to me. A protective word, but also a little inhibiting. I think a lot of games, particularly Minecraft but also others.

It also makes me think of rough-hewn stone walls, drafty where the packed earth has fallen away, leaving holes between the large slabs. Moss crawls along some of the porous surface, softening the grey-brown into a gentle green that belies the strength beneath it. There is no comfort here, but there is tiny beauty to be found within the stark confines. Minute flowers find root where dirt is allowed to stay, and tired bodies rest against the walls, relieved to have something solid between here and there.


	8. Epitome

Epitome’s one of those words that I want to like more than I actually do. Visually, it appeals to me, but I’m not fond of the sound of it as much. I can think of a couple of occasions where I would use it in day-to-day speech despite all this.

It is also a young woman standing on a stage. While lights train on her, she holds still, spine straight and eyes forward. There is a moment of silence while she holds the pose, feeling strands of her silver hair catch in the sweat on her neck and stick. The sweat is not uncomfortable to her, but the heat of those lights is, and she ignores the discomfort by drawing a deep breath.

When her mouth opens, and the song breaks forth, there is a peace that settles through her bones. On the crest of that sound, she is no longer on stage. She is no longer even solid. Instead, she is the music. And the music is her.


	9. Brief

I’m the child of a lawyer, so brief always brings to mind stacks of papers, typewritten documents decorated with scrawls of ink where names must be. It makes me think of a room with books along one wall and a large round table within. On that table, papers are strewn over the surface, beside and under and curled against white ceramic mugs whose insides are stained brown. A little away from the nest of papers and emptied mugs, a glass ashtray rests. The mountain of grey inside is mute testimony to the hours of preparation the nest has taken, and though the smell is faded, there is still a faintly acrid scent in the air.

The scene holds as it is for a brief moment, individual components separate and yet meaning more when taken together. And then the light goes out, and a door closes.


	10. Labyrinth

Pretty much any nerd of my generation probably has the first main thought to this word: David Bowie in tights, or some derivation thereof. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the story, but that’s definitely one of my favorite movies out there.

But it’s also dust on a rough stone floor; a corridor lit poorly and traveled infrequently. The walls of the corridor are mottled with shadow where crevices and depressions create unnatural shapes. Your shoes make quiet sounds along the passageway. Despite being sneakers, they don’t sneak. They scuff along, disturbing the dust of centuries in a hesitating pattern. It doesn’t matter that you’re always alone, because you’re alone right now, and now is when it makes a difference.

You can run if you want, but running will get you to your destination no faster. Running matters less than taking your time, and your memory isn’t good enough to memorize the way that one shadow looks a little like a unicorn while the next looks a lot like a mountain range at twilight. You can’t even trust that you’ve done the right thing, always turning left, because maybe you forgot to turn left just once.

Or was it always turning right?

And is there even a destination, in the end?


	11. Cleanse

Cleanse is not one of my favorite words, because for me it's a mixed bag of connotations. I do like the sound of it, but actually not quite as much as clean. Normally, softer sounds are my jam, but in this instance, not quite.

It is also soap bubbles on white marble. The bubbles are large and iridescent, circling the mottled veins of faint color in the blinding stone and tinting them so that it sometimes seems like the whole polished slab is opalescent. But the bubbles pop, one by one, leaving only a thin ring of film behind, and the color disappears before my eyes.


End file.
